Verses
by gleefulmusings
Summary: A series of fifty multifandom drabbles based on the infamous iPod shuffle. Fandoms include Angel, Buffy, Charmed, Doctor Who, Glee, Gossip Girl, Harry Potter, Torchwood, and others, including crossovers. Suggestions welcome, but no guarantees.
1. Pocketful of Sunshine

**Series**: Verses  
><strong>Author<strong>: gleefulmusings (formerly xanzpet)  
><strong>Beta<strong>: mysterious_daze

**Fandoms**: _Angel the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed, Doctor Who, Glee, Gossip Girl, Harry Potter, Supernatural, Torchwood_, and others, including crossovers.

**Rating**: M (overall)  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Snippets of dialogue may be incorporated from the original canonical episode(s) and belong to their respective authors/creators. The original characters and plot are the property of the author(s). The author(s) is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, nor should any be inferred. No profit is being made.

**Summary**: A series of fifty multifandom drabbles, with many of the characters and pairings based on the following meme: 1) Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. 2) Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle. 3) Write a drabble titled the same as the song playing. 4) The number of words in the drabble should the song's length. **Suggestions are welcomed in reviews, but I cannot guarantee to fill them.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>A Pocketful of Sunshine<strong>_

**Pairing**: Xander/Ninth Doctor (_Buffy/Doctor Who_)

* * *

><p><em>Take me away (take me away)<em>  
><em>A secret place (a secret place)<em>  
><em>A sweet escape (a sweet escape)<em>  
><em>Take me away (take me away)<em>  
><em>Take me away (take me away)<em>  
><em>To better days (to better days)<em>  
><em>Take me away (take me away)<em>  
><em>A hiding place (a hiding place)<em>

_The sun is on my side._  
><em>Take me for a ride.<em>  
><em>I smile up to the sky.<em>  
><em>I know I'll be all right.<em>

~ Natasha Bedingfield, _Pocketful of Sunshine_

* * *

><p>They ran together, laughing, through the streets of Paris, their pursuers long behind them, as the Doctor navigated their route, their guide the twinkling lights of the Île de la Cité, the swollen moon reflecting off the Seine and setting it aglow.<p>

His key to the TARDIS swung back and forth on the chain around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt, just below the crucifix Buffy had given to him. The Doctor grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers, and they veered left onto the Rue Dauphine, their legs pumping and breath catching as Pont Neuf loomed before them.

Xander looked behind him and saw nothing but the bemused smiles of several Parisians, who believed they were witnessing nothing more than yet another foreign couple swept away by the City of Lights.

They came to a halt in the middle of the bridge, the Doctor grinning from ear to ear, his eyes bright and electric. Xander doubled over, hands on his knees, as another gale of hysterical laughter was torn from his throat. As it tapered off and gave way to a faint wheeze, he looked at the Doctor, chuckled, and then spread wide his hands on the rail. He forced himself to breathe and his eyes panned around him.

Paris! He was in _Paris!_ The city he had heard Cordelia speak of with joy, Giles with fondness, and Joyce with longing, and he was _there_.

No vampires, no demons, no supernatural nonsense of any kind!

Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't a bottle of holy water at the ready in his front pocket or a stake nestled in the small of his back, held in place by his waistband. Sure, there were aliens trying to take over the world, but they pretty much had been defeated, and he had helped, really _helped_.

"So?" the Doctor excitedly asked.

Xander laughed again. "Fantastic!" He threw his arms around the Doctor's neck. "Absolutely fantastic!"


	2. Suddenly I See

**Pairing**: Tara/Dean; Sam/Dean

**Fandoms**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural_

* * *

><p><em>Her face is a map of the world,<br>is a map of the world.  
>You can see she's a beautiful girl,<br>she's a beautiful girl.  
>And everything around her is a silver pool of light,<br>the people who surround her feel the benefit of it.  
>It makes you calm;<br>She holds you captivated in her palm._

Suddenly I see (suddenly I see),  
>this is what I wanna be.<br>Suddenly I see (suddenly I see),  
>why the hell it means so much to me.<p>

~ KT Tunstall

* * *

><p>It wasn't that she didn't want him; he could deal with that just fine.<p>

And he was all about lesbians! He couldn't have been happier that there were hot ladies in the world who only dug other chicks.

Besides, it was a riot watching her blow off guys who desperately tried to get her attention. That she was, most of the time, so oblivious to their intentions only made him like her more. She was completely unaware of her own beauty. It was refreshing and honest, and curious and sad all at the same time.

It was that she reminded him so painfully of Sam.

Not in terms of looks, of course. Tara was blond and fair and soft in all the places of which most women could only dream.

It was that she was quiet, _guarded_, in possession of secrets and knowledge which had always been denied to him; as if she, like Sam, was complicit in some grand universal conspiracy to keep him ignorant.

She didn't make him feel dumb or excluded or _less_. If anything, she was warm and tender, gentle and kind, and seemed to understand him far better than he ever had or ever could understand himself.

Like Sam.

And so when he looked at Tara, he didn't see just her. She was an echo, a reminder of an absence he could never fill, one which he didn't necessarily _want_to fill, but wanted to ignore, at least for a while.

He tried to stay away from her. She never pressed him when he failed to show up for lunch at the diner where she waitressed. She never scolded or punished him, never wheedled or cajoled, but one look in those huge blue eyes and he knew that she had missed him and he felt like a total asshole.

She was leaving soon anyway. For college. Like Sam.

Another reminder of something he could never have.


	3. Nothing Fails

**Pairing**: Jack/Ianto

**Fandom**: _Torchwood_, Season Two AU

* * *

><p><em>I'm in love with you, you silly thing. Anyone can see.<br>What is it with you, you silly thing? Just take it from me.  
>It was not a chance meeting, feel my heart beating.<br>You're the one._

_You could take all this, take it away,_  
><em>and I'd still have it all.<em>  
><em>'Cause I've climbed the tree of life and that is why,<em>  
><em>I'm no longer scared if I fall.<em>  
><em>When I get lost in space I can return to this place,<em>  
><em>'cause you're the one.<em>

_Nothing fails._  
><em>No more fears.<em>  
><em>Nothing fails.<em>  
><em>You washed away my tears.<em>

_I'm not religious, but I feel so moved,_  
><em>makes me want to pray.<em>  
><em>Pray you'll always be here.<em>

_Nothing fails._

~ Madonna, _Nothing Fails_

* * *

><p>Expectations were a currency afforded to the ridiculously gullible or the perversely optimistic, which was why he had learned to keep his low, if he could be bothered to have them. It was easier not to, really; surprises were unwelcome, save for instances of mortal terror or threatened global domination. Those got his blood racing, his heart pumping, reminding him that he was not as hollow as his insistences to the contrary.<p>

He had spent his life, all of them, running from everything and anyone which might possibly make him feel something other than alone, too afraid to face the disappointment which inevitably arose from situations of his own engineering.

Even the greatest loves of his life, smaller in number than most would believe, he forced himself to view with a curious guarded detachment.

John was a flame which had burned more brightly than he had anticipated and he had been unprepared. The passion had been so overwhelming, so liberating, that he had been more himself than ever before, and he knew John would suffer for it were it to continue. He had exposed too much, been too open, too honest, and had left both of them vulnerable. He had loved him inasmuch as he was able to love anyone, perhaps even more, were he honest, but their flame had consumed as much as it had illuminated, and he knew it had to be extinguished before both of them were destroyed.

Once it was over, the memories inundated him, as did John's accusations. Yes, he was a coward, but not for the reasons for which he had been condemned. He had left to save John, but for that to have happened, the break had to be clean, so he had left the Time Agency and everything else, and he had learned.

But then he met Rose, and all of that work, all of that pain, all of those lessons, evaporated in her wake. He had been so beguiled by her innocence, her beauty; a purity so blinding he had lost sight temporarily of the darkness. He had seen so much of himself in her, of whom he might have been had he allowed himself. Of whom Grey might have become had he been given the chance. He had held Rose in his arms that first night and something healed within him, something so small and innocuous, he hadn't truly noticed until it ripped open again when he read her name on the manifest of the dead at Canary Wharf.

And the Doctor. But he couldn't – he wouldn't – allow himself to remember.

He had lost so many and had saved even more. But Ianto had saved him.

Thank God.


	4. Bleeding Love

**Pairing**: Chuck/Eric

**Fandom**: _Gossip Girl_, Season One AU

* * *

><p><em>Trying hard not to hear,<br>but they talk so loud.  
>Their piercing sounds fill my ears,<br>trying to fill me with doubt,  
>yet I know that their goal<br>is to keep me from falling._

_But nothing's greater than the rush_  
><em>that comes with your embrace,<em>  
><em>and in this world of loneliness<em>  
><em>I see your face,<em>  
><em>yet everyone around me<em>  
><em>thinks that I'm going crazy.<em>

_Maybe._

_But I don't care what they say,_  
><em>I'm in love with you.<em>  
><em>They try to pull me away<em>  
><em>but they don't know the truth.<em>  
><em>My heart's crippled by the vein<em>  
><em>that I keep on closing.<em>  
><em>You cut me open and I<em>

_Keep bleeding._  
><em>I keep bleeding.<em>  
><em>Keep, keep bleeding love.<em>  
><em>You cut me open.<em>

~ Leona Lewis, _Bleeding Love_

* * *

><p>His sister had pleaded with him, once going so far as to beg on her knees, but to no avail; his stepfather had looked into prosecution on his behalf; his mother had simply threatened to commit him again.<p>

Nate studied him as if he were a mysterious artifact which demanded scrutiny, and the cool reproof in Blair's eyes would have been laughable had it not been so pathetic. Dan had tried to dissuade him, surprisingly not at the behest of Serena but out of personal concern, though his earnest words and practiced arguments had fallen on deaf ears; his judgments were irrelevant. Jenny would catch his eye in the hall and quickly look away, her shame over Asher never far from her thoughts, which was just as well.

He might very well have been making the biggest mistake yet in his life. Perhaps his dismissal of the objections of his friends and family were further proof of his corruption. Possibly he was insane; many thought so, especially when his cell would ring with the latest blast – invariably about him – and he would throw back his head and roar with glee. He didn't care.

For the first time in his life, he was happy, and as cliché as it was, as naïve as he most assuredly was, and though it probably wouldn't last until the end of term, he wasn't willing to sacrifice that happiness to quell the fears and egos of people so self-involved with the most absurd aspects of this life, it bordered on the completely ludicrous.

He knew they loved him, that they worried, but their glass houses were so riddled with holes, it was difficult at times not to point and laugh whenever they opened their mouths. He refused to be their mirror; if they had difficulties meeting their reflections, it was on them.

He was young, not stupid. He knew who Chuck was and always had, and perhaps that was the point. He had no expectations and made no unrealistic demands. He wasn't out to change anyone. It could be over tomorrow if Chuck wanted, and while it would hurt, he would recover. Despite what many believed, he was no wilting flower, and wouldn't wither and die if left on the vine.

No one saw the gentle kisses or the joined hands; no one heard the murmured endearments peppered with delightful filth; and no one would _ever_ understand what it meant to wear _that_ scarf around your neck.

This vein Eric had opened not out of desperation, but exaltation.


	5. Killing Me Softly

**Pairing**: Xander/Giles

**Fandom**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, AU between Seasons Three and Four

* * *

><p><em>I heard he sang a good song,<br>I heard he had a style.  
>And so I came to see him,<br>to listen for a while.  
>And there he was, this young boy.<br>A stranger to my eyes._

_Strumming my pain with his fingers._  
><em>Singing my life with his words.<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song.<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song.<em>  
><em>Telling my whole life with his words.<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song.<em>

_I felt all flushed with fever,_  
><em>embarrassed by the crowd.<em>  
><em>I felt he found my letters<em>  
><em>and read each one out loud.<em>  
><em>I prayed that he would finish,<em>  
><em>but he just kept right on.<em>

_He sang as if he knew me_  
><em>in all my dark despair,<em>  
><em>and then he looked right through me<em>  
><em>as if I wasn't there.<em>  
><em>And he just kept on singing,<em>  
><em>singing clear and strong.<em>

_Strumming my pain with his fingers_  
><em>Singing my life with his words<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song<em>  
><em>Telling my whole life with his words<em>  
><em>Killing me softly with his song.<em>

~ Roberta Flack, _Killing Me Softly_

* * *

><p>It has taken me longer to track down the boy than it should have, though why I should have been surprised is beyond me; when Xander wishes to hide, he is often impossible to find. This perhaps should inspire a number of concerns within me, but I frankly do not wish to know the answers. I have often, for reasons unknown to me, or perhaps simply because I do not wish to ruminate upon them, reserved myself from his company, for I believe I could very well develop an untoward attachment to him.<p>

He is pleasantly attractive, despite his protests to the contrary, but he believes his wholesomeness is an impediment to the dashing hero he so desperately desires to be, unknowing he would be this regardless of his beauty. He is not the idiot he proclaims himself to be, not understanding that intelligence is quite separate from learnedness. His humor can be grating, as can his numerous insecurities, but as he comes by them honestly, one learns to accept them as part and parcel of the rather impressive young man he is becoming.

He is not the smartest or the strongest, nor the bravest or the most beautiful, but neither is he lacking in any of these qualities. That he cannot see this for himself is endlessly frustrating, but I will not waste my time or his by correcting his misconceptions; the girls have tried and failed for years, and exercises in futility are regular occurrences in my life. I have no need to add more.

When he failed to maintain regular contact this summer, I put out feelers, knowing he eventually would involve himself in some otherworld nonsense, for it is his nature, and the most promising lead has brought me here, to a disreputable club where humans debase themselves on a dais for the amusement of demons.

I steel myself before entering and seat myself at the end of the bar. The lights come up and he is center stage, a guitar in hand, and confusion and disbelief cloud my mind. His mouth opens and he begins to sing, and I'm so entranced that I promptly spill my overpriced cocktail down my jumper.

His voice is rough, untrained, but there is an inherent purity so remarkable, it brings tears to my eyes. His gift, however, is not musicianship, but interpretation, and as he pours his heart out in his song, something deep is touched within mine. Every note is infused with a passion I never knew he possessed, and the loneliness behind them, the sheer agony of his pain, is exquisite and uncomfortably familiar.

As he lays himself bare, he flays me open.


	6. Something Worth Leaving Behind

**Pairing**: Darla/Jesse

**Fandom**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, Season One AU

* * *

><p><em>I'll probably never hold a brush<br>that paints a masterpiece.  
>I'll probably never find a pen<br>that writes a symphony.  
>But if I will love than I will find<br>that I have touched another life  
>and that's something,<br>something worth leaving behind._

_I may not go down in history;_  
><em>I just want someone to remember me.<em>

_I'll probably never dream a dream_  
><em>and watch it turn to gold.<em>  
><em>I know I'll never lose my life<em>  
><em>to save another's soul.<em>  
><em>But if I will love than I will find<em>  
><em>I have touched another life,<em>  
><em>and that's something<em>  
><em>something worth leaving behind.<em>

~ Lee Ann Womack, _Something Worth Leaving Behind_

* * *

><p>He knew he had made a colossal error in judgment as her slight fingers laced with his tightly and led him from the Bronze. Her hand was too cool, too dry, and while his libido screamed that this was indeed a promising hallmark, suggesting a woman who was experienced and for whatever unknown reason wanted to experience something with <em>him<em>, the quieter, more logical part of his mind which could still function in this lust-induced haze screamed in warning protest.

A beautiful blond _woman_– not girl – had whispered silken longings and fiery promises into his eager teenaged ear and suddenly nothing else mattered; neither his parents nor school, not his best friend or Willow's ridiculous crush on said best friend, not the new girl who carried kindling in her purse, and not Cordelia's countless impatient rejections.

So how could he let this opportunity pass? He knew it would never repeat itself; that just wasn't his kind of luck. He had accepted long ago that he wouldn't be accompanying Will to an Ivy Leaguer, or riding Cordy's coattails along her path to further greatness. Besides, he had Xander, who was the best. They'd finish out school, maybe drive around the country after, come back and work dead-end jobs and hang out at the Bronze until they hit thirty and were forcibly ejected. And he didn't mind; he was looking forward to it.

But right now, there was Darla, who wanted him, and he wanted so badly to be wanted that he allowed it to override everything else: a polite goodbye to his friends, a parting shot to Cordelia, and his own survival instinct. And, anyway, this was Sunnydale. Nothing ever happened in this town, so why should something start now, with him? He was too boring.

He knew better, but refused to admit it.

So he wasn't too surprised when Darla led him to a cave, or when her face changed into something that belonged in the nightmares of Freddy Krueger. And as the light dimmed within him, he found it ironic that, for the first time, he felt truly alive.


	7. Lay Down

**Fandom**: _Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, post-_Not Fade Away _AU; comics disregarded

**Pairing**: Xander/Connor

* * *

><p><em>Speechless, but the answer's in my mouth.<br>Breathless, the emotions seeping out  
>beyond my control.<br>You spoke to my silence: 'Why so cold?'_

_You ask for peace; I give you war._  
><em>While you let go, I hold too tightly.<em>  
><em>I take my aim, you hit the floor.<em>  
><em>I'm not ready to lay down my arms.<em>

_Cracking, my defenses breaking down;_  
><em>the unraveling of a rope I put around me.<em>  
><em>You won't take no for an answer.<em>

_I didn't know I was missing out, 'til you lost and I,_  
><em>I won.<em>  
><em>You made me realize my incompleteness alone.<em>  
><em>Can no longer live by candlelight<em>  
><em>when you've shown me the sun.<em>

_You ask for peace; I give you war._  
><em>While you let go, I hold too tightly.<em>  
><em>I take my aim, you hit the floor.<em>  
><em>I'm not ready to lay down my arms.<em>

~ Natasha Bedingfield, _Lay Down_

* * *

><p>He didn't know how to interact with someone who wanted nothing from him.<p>

Holtz had wanted a soldier, an avenging replacement for the child taken too soon from him, and Angel had wanted to parent a child who had never in fact existed save a few short months. Two different fathers had stolen from him two different lives under the same pretense: that he might have a chance; neither realized they had left him with almost none.

Cordelia had never been given a chance or a choice, except for the one she was manipulated into making and, in the end, she had paid the price for all of them.

Xander just wanted to love him, but Connor couldn't allow it, despite his own desires, a longing so ardent, so desperate, it bordered on violent, and no one knew better than he, except perhaps for Angel, his capacity for violence. His guilt and his anger were punishing, and he was terrified that one day he might turn them outward on yet another innocent person. He wondered how Xander could look at him and not see Cordelia's blood on his hands.

Patience, kindness, surrender. Traits he once considered abject weaknesses he now recognized as strengths thanks to Xander, who treated him with respect and as a person in his own right and not as the extension of another, who blamed him no more for Cordelia's death than he blamed him for his mother's murder of Jesse, or Buffy for the loss of his eye.

Xander had learned through loss the art of accountability and insisted that Connor was not responsible for the decisions of others.

Still, Connor kept pushing, kept _fighting_, testing the limits and waiting for Xander to give up, to go away, to abandon him. Instead there were whispers of devotion that were neither forced nor quixotic, support unyielding and love unconditional.

Finally, he had a _chance_.


	8. Miles Away

**Fandom**: _Supernatural_, pre-series

**Pairing**: Sam/Dean (fraternal; pre-slash if you squint)

* * *

><p><em>I just woke up from a fuzzy dream.<br>You never would believe the things that I have seen.  
>I looked in the mirror and I saw your face;<br>you looked right through me, you were miles away_

_All my dreams they fade away,_  
><em>I'll never be the same.<em>  
><em>If you could see me the way you see yourself;<em>  
><em>I can't pretend to be someone else.<em>

_You always love me more, miles away._  
><em>I hear it in your voice when we're miles away.<em>  
><em>You're not afraid to tell me, miles away.<em>  
><em>I guess we're at our best when we're miles away.<em>

_When no one's around then I have you here._  
><em>I begin to see the picture, it becomes so clear.<em>  
><em>You always have the biggest heart,<em>  
><em>when we're six thousand miles apart.<em>

_Too much of no sound,_  
><em>uncomfortable silence can be so loud.<em>  
><em>Those three words are never enough<em>  
><em>when it's long distance love.<em>

_I'm alright, don't be sorry, but it's true._  
><em>When I'm gone you realize that<em>  
><em>I'm the best thing that happened to you.<em>

~ Madonna, _Miles Away_

* * *

><p>The first year had been the hardest, when the phone would ring and he'd leap upon it, anxious to hear Dean's voice answer him back and launch into a blistering ribbing followed by a ruthless interrogation. But those calls were few and far between, though there was at least some discernible pattern to them, usually lunar, and Sam made sure to carry on him his fully-charged phone at all times.<p>

At first, he wondered if his brother's haphazard communications were because he simply didn't like using the phone; Dean had always preferred face-to-face conversations, as they showcased his winning smile and his charm could be on full display.

After that initial semester, Sam had dismissed that thought and chose to believe that Dean was staying away purposefully so that he could more easily adjust to his new life, but that hope died swiftly when his own calls to Dean's phone went straight to voicemail and remained un-returned. His mind swirled with confusion and then anger, convincing himself that John had placed limits on the number of calls Dean was to make.

His father's voice still rung in his ears that he was to never come back if he left for college, and he hadn't heard from him since. As the weeks, and then months, passed, however, the more Sam came to believe Dean wasn't calling because he couldn't be bothered. Still, when fleeting contact was made, Dean never hung up without telling him how much he loved him.

It wasn't so much that they spoke of anything important; Sam was disinterested in hearing recounts of latest hunts and Dean was bored by his brother's excited blathering about this party or such-and-such class or this frat which wanted him to rush. He never told him about Jess, but knew Dean figured there was someone.

The calls became spaced further apart, and grew shorter and more distant in tone; finally, they were made only to the apartment phone, and always when Sam was in class. Still, Dean always made sure to tell him he loved him, and it was those three words – words which Dean had never before said to him before, and were delivered now with such effusive warmth – to which Sam clung and wrapped himself in when life's annoyances threatened to get the better of him.

Gradually, the calls ceased altogether, yet Sam never doubted that Dean loved him and continued to do so; if anything, he was more sure of this now then when they were kids, and his love for his brother burned brighter than he thought possible.

He just wondered why it had taken Dean so long to say the words, what had compelled him.


	9. Don't Say Goodbye

**Fandom**: _Angel_, Season One; missing scene for _Hero_.

**Pairing**: Cordelia/Doyle

* * *

><p><em>Our story's just begun,<br>time will bring us near.  
>I'll never be too far.<br>Oh, baby, don't you fear,  
>I'll always be where you are.<em>

_You can dry my tears but_  
><em>you can't stop the pain inside<em>  
><em>I'm trying to hide.<em>  
><em>As I hold you near,<em>  
><em>I know I have to pull away;<em>  
><em>you know that I can't stay.<em>

_All of my life, no one_  
><em>has touched me the way that you do.<em>  
><em>Wherever I go I know<em>  
><em>that the road will lead back to you.<em>

_Can you feel my love inside,_  
><em>the way that my body's sighing<em>  
><em>with your every breath?<em>  
><em>I try to memorize every move you're making<em>  
><em>so I'll never forget the way that you feel<em>  
><em>whenever your heart is beating with mine.<em>  
><em>Wherever I go I'll keep my memories of you inside.<em>

_So don't say goodbye._  
><em>Don't turn away.<em>  
><em>It doesn't have to end today.<em>  
><em>Don't say goodbye.<em>  
><em>'Cause I will love you 'til the end of time.<em>

~ Paulina Rubio, _Don't Say Goodbye_

* * *

><p>He looked at the light growing brighter and was vaguely amused by the irony of the situation. It had all come down to this, this moment, and he, the supposed Seer, hadn't, well, <em>seen<em>it coming. The universe had a great sense of humor, if you chose to acknowledge it.

He wasn't a hero. Never had any designs on being one. He'd much rather be sitting in a bar right now, drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey and leaving Angel to deal with all of this; it was, after all, the vampire's job as the Champion. But he knew that it was more important for Angel to survive than he himself. Champions were much rarer than Seers.

And when he turned to Angel he wondered what would become of him. Would he find his redemption? Would he one day reunite with Buffy?

Doyle hoped so. Angel was a good man. Vampire. Whatever. He was sure Angel would save the world many more times, but this time, this moment? It was all his. He decked Angel and tried not to feel the shock at his success and a smug satisfaction in the act.

He then turned to Cordelia and saw in her eyes that she knew what he was about to do, but was fighting the realization in favor of confusion and outrage.

As he walked toward her, he struggled with what to say: that he loved her, always had and always would; that he wanted nothing for her but happiness, because she deserved nothing less; that this time with her and Angel had made him a better man, a better demon, a better _soul_; that she had come so far in these months, and just the glimpse of the woman she would become both humbled and filled him with pride, that he had been a small part of it; and that no matter where he ended up, for better or worse, he'd find a way to watch over her, that he would never leave her; that this wasn't a sacrifice, because the world was better off with her in it.

And as he took her in his arms, all of that faded away as he experienced an epiphany: she was to take his place, and he couldn't imagine anyone better. Truth was the axiom by which she lived her life, and that pursuit, that dedication, had led her to her own Calling.

He closed his eyes briefly, drinking in her scent, the feel of her skin against his own, and tried not to feel cheated. He felt a part of himself pass into her, his own brand of immortality.

He kissed her goodbye, but wouldn't say the word.


	10. Jump

**Fandom**: _Doctor Who_, Series One; missing scene for _Rose_.

**Character**: Rose Tyler

* * *

><p><em>I haven't got much time to waste,<br>it's time to make my way.  
>I'm not afraid of what I'll face,<br>but I'm afraid to stay.  
>I'm going down my road and I can make it alone.<br>I'll work and I'll fight till I find a place of my own_

_Are you ready to jump?_  
><em>Get ready to jump.<em>  
><em>Don't ever look back, oh baby.<em>  
><em>Yes, I'm ready to jump.<em>  
><em>Just take my hand, get ready to jump.<em>

_We learned out lesson from the start, my mother and me._  
><em>The only thing you can depend on is your family.<em>  
><em>Life's gonna drop you down like a limb from a tree;<em>  
><em>it sways and it swings and it bends until it makes you see.<em>

_There's only so much you can learn in one place._  
><em>The more that you wait, the more time that you waste.<em>

_Are you ready?_

~ Madonna, _Jump_

* * *

><p>This was one of those moments, Rose knew, which defined a life.<p>

In less time than she thought possible, she reviewed her own and found it lacking. So many wrong choices, so many bitter disappointments, and she suspected little would change for the better until she was willing to force her own hand and admit to herself that she both wanted and deserved more.

It was no slight against Jackie, who was not only her mother but her best friend. They had been there for each other when no one else had been, had fought tooth and nail for everything they had which, while though it wasn't much, was theirs outright. They had survived.

But survival was no longer enough; she needed more. She needed to _matter_.

And while she loved Mickey, she wasn't in love with him, nor did she believe that she herself was his ideal woman. They were together because neither wanted to be alone, because they had history, and because theirs was a companionship which was easy and undemanding. But that's not what she wanted anymore, not for herself or for Mickey; they both deserved better.

She didn't know what she wanted from life, what she wanted that life to be, but she knew she would never find out by staying here. Settling into a life she knew she didn't want, simply because she was too afraid to take a chance, too lazy to demand more from herself? Sod that.

This Doctor, whoever he was, wasn't the answer to her problems, she knew. She didn't expect him to fix her life or make it a better one, but maybe he could show her how to do that for herself. A better way to live, a better way to _be_.

She wasn't afraid to leave and she wasn't afraid to fail. What terrified her was staying and nothing changing, of never _trying_, and in that moment, she made her decision. She dismissed Mickey's protestations, kissed him goodbye, and started running, grinning like a fool.

She jumped into the TARDIS, ready to become fantastic.


	11. Dare Me

**Pairing**: Faith/Jack

**Fandom**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Torchwood_

* * *

><p><em>I've got a chip on my shoulder with your name on it;<br>So don't just stand there foolin' if you don't want it.  
>I say you're either a lover or you are a liar.<br>So don't you push too hard, you're playin' with fire._

_Baby, make your move, step across the line._  
><em>Touch me one more time, come on, dare me.<em>  
><em>I wanna take you on, I know I can't lose.<em>  
><em>I'll be loving you if you just dare me.<em>

_Looks like you're lookin' for trouble,_  
><em>and I'd say you found it.<em>  
><em>You'll have to come right through me,<em>  
><em>there's no way around it.<em>  
><em>I hope that lean hungry look means what it's saying,<em>  
><em>'Cause I'm just sittin' on ready, ready and waiting.<em>  
><em>Baby, make your move, step across the line.<em>  
><em>Come on, dare me.<em>

~ The Pointer Sisters, _Dare Me_

* * *

><p>The club was a hole in the wall. Dark and smoke-filled, with rotating clients which guaranteed fresh faces every hour. Just how she liked it. She was no longer in the habit of dragging off some random stud or pretty young thing for a quick bang in the filthy back alley – but she liked to know that she <em>could<em> if she wanted. Whatevs.

She spied her latest stalker.

When you looked as good as Faith, stalkers were a regular occurrence. He'd been checking her out for a couple hours and had turned up during a few patrols, so he knew what she was. It was a scream that he thought himself subtle, especially since he hadn't a clue she'd been following him for the last month.

Captain Jack of Torchwood. And what kind of lame-ass name was that for a secret alien-fighting organization? Sounded like a rest home for pyros.

His hair was a mess and his coat was a fucking joke. Wasn't too hard to figure out what he wanted. There was a string of Retconned newbie Slayers throughout the UK, all with tales of woe about some missing hours. CCTV had filled in some blanks before the tapes were erased; Tosh Sato might be hot shit with her computer, but she was strictly amateur hour compared to Red the Superwitch.

Her mission tonight was to break into the Hub and destroy all the data – including blood samples – they had on Slayers, because that shit wasn't cool. Didn't matter to her if all they took was platelets. Drugging her girls meant fucking ruination.

Still, didn't mean she couldn't have fun. Dude had a sweet ass and she wanted a bite.

She glanced again, saw him beaming at her and, okay, killer smile, the kind that would make lesser women weak at the knees.

She didn't believe in that shit. If a man wanted her, he had to work for it. So maybe it was time to find out what Piano Teeth was willing to do to get her attention.

"Come on. Make your move."


	12. Beating My Heart

**Pairing**: Buffy/Xander

**Fandom**: _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, Season Seven

* * *

><p><em>There are times every now and then<br>I forget why I'm breathing out  
>and why I'm breathing in.<br>And I get so sick with the little things,  
>I can't relax when it's happening<br>to know what it means._

Seven years, Buffy decided, was a good time to take stock; or maybe, like the old saying went, she was feeling that itch.

But not in any nasty gyno way.

Everyone was out of the house for whatever reason – at this point, she didn't much care – and she found herself alone for a few hours. She walked the halls and peered into empty rooms, searching for her dead mother and other fleeting moments of happiness. She paused in the doorway of her room, smiling at Mister Gordo sitting atop her bed, and was filled with a need to evaluate her life and what she wanted it to be.

So much had happened these past seven years; most of it bad, but some of it good, too. For every demon, there was a latte with Willow at the Espresso Pump. For every apocalypse, there was a movie night at Giles's apartment. For every loss was the recognition her life had been enriched by the time which prefaced it. She turned toward her bulletin board and wondered when it had been taken over by pictures of her mother and Tara and Cordelia and the solitary, tattered snapshot of Kendra sharpening Mister Pointy.

_There's a sun coming over the horizon.  
>I wanna know where its coming from,<br>but doesnt everyone?  
>It's like 'who am I<br>and why am I here?'_

In the past seven years, there were moments in which Buffy had wished she was dead, those in which she wished she had _stayed_dead, and moments she had wished dead people whom she would now give anything to have returned to her. She had lost a lot, but still had more than most people, and this life which she had once wanted to be over she now embraced with greedy pleasure.

_And then I open my eyes,  
>and I know you're beating my heart, beating my heart.<br>Look at the sky.  
>I know you're beating my heart, beating my heart.<em>

Her eyes lingered on a photograph of Xander and her heart warmed even as it was struck with a knowledge at once alien and familiar. Every loss, every gain, every heartbreak, and every hope included, in some way, a memory of him. He was her strength, her guiding light and, in this moment of complete honesty, the most important person in her life. If she knew anything for certain, it was her total belief in him.

Maybe she should tell him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: The song used in this story is by Jon McLaughlin, and can be found on his 2008 release _OK Now_.


	13. She's So High

**Pairing**: Cordelia/Angel

**Fandom**: _Angel_, Season Three AU

* * *

><p><em>She's blood, flesh and bone.<br>No tucks or silicone.  
>She's touch, smell, sight, taste and sound.<br>But somehow I can't believe  
>that anything should happen.<br>I know where I belong,  
>and nothing's gonna happen.<em>

_Cause she's so high,_  
><em>high above me, she's so lovely.<em>  
><em>She's so high.<em>  
><em>Like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, or Aphrodite.<em>  
><em>She's so high. High above me.<em>

~ Tal Bachman, _She's So High_

* * *

><p>He felt ridiculous that, as he was pushing his quarter of a millennium mark, he had embarked on a second adolescence. He was unsure when it began, but suspected it was around the time he started noticing what Cordelia was wearing, and not simply because she demanded his attention – not his opinion – regarding the day's ensemble. Around the time he realized making an ass out of himself to make her smile was the highlight of his day. Or perhaps it was the first time she held Connor and he felt the family he had slaughtered in the name of freedom had, in some small way, been restored.<p>

She was so beautiful. It wasn't that he had never noticed before; it was that he only now recognized he hadn't noticed _enough_. He had known her for five years; a blink of an eye for him and a lifetime for her. She had lost so much and gained even more. He took no pride in the woman she had become for, while he knew he had assisted in that transformation, the bulk of the work was accomplished by Cordelia alone. He was so proud of her, and it had been an honor to witness her blossom into the woman perhaps not even she had realized she could become.

It was cliché to fall in love with your best friend, but he now better understood Xander's former feelings for Buffy and Willow's for Xander. More seductive than the first pangs of love was the promise of safety afforded only by a true friend, and in his long life, both mortal and other, Cordelia was the only person to fill that role. How he had survived this long without her, he had no idea, and he refused to consider what he would become without her.

But what would she want with him? He had nothing to offer but eventual pain, and he wouldn't do to her what he had to Buffy. And was he staring?

"What are you staring at?"

"Uh. Your shoes?"

"Oh my god, are you gay?"


	14. In This Life

**Pairings**: Nine/Rose; Harry/Hermione; Willow/Tara

**Fandoms**: _Doctor Who; Harry Potter; Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

* * *

><p><em>I was nurtured, I was sheltered,<br>I was curious and young.  
>I was searching for that something,<br>trying to find it on the run.  
>Oh and just when I stopped looking<br>I saw just how far I'd come in this life._

_You give me love, you give me light._  
><em>Show me everything that's been happening,<em>  
><em>I've opened up my eyes. I'm following.<em>  
><em>Three steps, fight an honest fight.<em>  
><em>Two hearts that can start a fire.<em>  
><em>One love is all I need in this life.<em>

Outside of her mother, the Doctor was the greatest security Rose had ever known. It was almost foolish to think it, and she would certainly never say it, but in a life which had been transitory in everything but geography, traveling about the universe with an alien who thought her species pants had provided her with more stability than anything else.

She hadn't expected much from this life. There had been grand dreams which she knew had little chance of coming true no matter how much effort she had supplied, which was probably why she hadn't bothered. Dropping out of school; Jimmy Stone. Yeah, part of it was about getting Jackie's attention, and maybe they were even a cry for help, but she had convinced herself options were limited. She knew she was smart, but there was smarter; she was pretty enough, but there was always a more beautiful face. She had been decent in gymnastics back in the day, but a growth spurt and growing a set pretty much ended that fancy.

She was good at everything and nothing all at once.

And the shop was okay, nothing wrong with honest work, but she had wanted more. Didn't know where to find it, of course, so she kind of drifted about, waiting for something to happen, something which would allow her to prove herself if to no one but herself.

Cue living plastic, a big blue box, and a grumpy old man with ears the size of potatoes.

She loved it. She loved everything about it and about him.

And her mother's objections didn't matter, Mickey's bellowing didn't matter, and the Doctor's warnings didn't matter. Because Rose herself had come to matter. She fought battles which needed to be fought, saving people not just because it was the right thing to do, but because it was the only thing to do.

It was dangerous, terrifying, and often thankless, but there was nothing in this world or in any other that she would rather be doing, and with no one other than him.

It was absolutely bloody fantastic.

* * *

><p><em>I have faltered, I have stumbled,<br>I have found my feet again.  
>I've been angry and I've been shaken,<br>found a new place to begin.  
>And my persistence to make a difference<br>has led me safe into your hands, in this life.  
>In this life.<em>

_You give me love, you give me light._  
><em>Show me everything that's been happening,<em>  
><em>I've opened up my eyes. I'm following.<em>  
><em>Three steps, fight an honest fight.<em>  
><em>Two hearts that can start a fire.<em>  
><em>One love is all I need in this life.<em>

His parents. The Dursleys. Hogwarts. The Tournament. Voldemort.

All the losses and the lives this war had caused and cost – even his moments with Dumbledore and Ron – she had stayed through it all. She had stayed despite his warnings, his condemnations, and his ingratitude. She had forgiven his jealousy, his stubbornness, and his foolishness. She had known what he had needed before he could pose the question, before he even recognized the exigency.

How could he repay her? How could he even begin to thank her?

That she required no acknowledgment humbled him all the more. He had lost count of all the times he had taken advantage of her, that he had neglected her, that she had saved his life. There were moments he would look at her and understand on a fundamental level that he was her hero; that he had no desire to be anyone's hero was of little interest to her. He would be dead several times over were it not for her, and there was not a doubt in his mind that if he had a hero, it was she.

He hadn't appreciated all the times and all the ways in which she had been there for him; in his darkest moments when he thought he was alone, she had been there, quiet and stalwart and endlessly supportive. She was brave, she was brilliant, she was beautiful; but above all, she was his friend and had been from the beginning, no questions asked, even when he hadn't realized it. He looked back on those times and was awed by her and ashamed of himself.

Everything that was good, that was pure, was personified by her. She had been the only one who had never questioned his integrity, whose resolve had never wavered, who had challenged him not out of malice or condescension, but concern.

She was the best mate anyone could ever hope to have.

If he was sure of anything, if the pain and the glory had taught him nothing else, it was that he had been meant to learn from her.

* * *

><p><em>I was put here for a reason.<br>I was born into this world.  
>And I'm living and I'm believing<br>that I was meant to be your girl.  
>In this life.<em>

_You give me love, you give me light._  
><em>Show me everything that's been happening,<em>  
><em>I've opened up my eyes. I'm following.<em>  
><em>Three steps, fight an honest fight.<em>  
><em>Two hearts that can start a fire.<em>  
><em>One love is all I need in this life.<em>

She had spent most of her life afraid to acknowledge her own existence. When she learned what that existence might entail, she had asked no questions and accepted the punishment part and parcel, believing herself worthy of such a curse. She had been taught that she could rely on no one else, not even herself; that her very identity was shameful and unnatural; that people would hurt you if given the chance; and that confidence was a sign of perversion.

What galled her now was that she had believed it, that she had allowed herself to be so beaten down by those who were meant to protect and love her without question, that she had lived a half life because of unnecessary fear and doubt.

With the exception of Buffy, none of them had family of which to speak: Willow's parents were cold and neglectful; Xander's were belligerent and abusive; Anya had not a soul in this world; and Giles spoke of no one dear to him. Somehow, they had managed to form a family of such love and ferocity, it was brilliant to behold. And now it included her.

It had been difficult at first, the specter of Oz lingering on the periphery as a reminder of what wasn't there and as an obstruction to what was. She didn't begrudge them their love for him; she was ecstatic they had made room for her.

She and Willow had had their quarrels – those stupid little arguments which every couple experiences – as well as soul-riving moments which had threatened to tear them asunder forever. In the end, though, they had fought to find their way back to one another, had struggled through the agony and grief and mistrust, and were all the stronger for it. At long last, after so much turmoil and regret, she had found her soulmate and a family that loved her for who she was. She had no illusions; all of this could end tomorrow. But it might not.

She had found more than her place, found more than herself. She had found her purpose.

* * *

><p>The song used in this drabble is Delta Goodrem's <em>In This Life<em>, available on her release _Delta_.


End file.
